Barbara Metzger (22 page)

Carissa knew they were all trying to restore her reputation, no matter how futile the effort. She also knew that she was seeing less and less of the viscount as she went out more in Society, where she'd never wanted to go. She was living in his house, missing him already, and he hadn't gone anywhere.

She had: to Lady Volsted's for tea, to Lady Quigley's for a poetry reading, to Lady Brockett's for silver loo. Like a raft without a rudder, she was being shoved, willy-nilly, into the sea of public scrutiny—right where Phillip Kane could find her.

She was in the park with the children that morning. The duchess never rose before midday, and for once Carissa was not required at the modiste's or the stationer's. There seemed to be fewer hours in the day than when she was working, so she was determined to enjoy this sunny morning with her daughter. She had no idea where the viscount was, since her elegant guest bedroom overlooked the rear gardens of Hammond House, not the bustling street. She would not dare inquire of Wimberly, the starchy butler, either. The man already thought she was an interloper, displacing his mistress. Carissa actually missed Byrd, and Cook's kitchen. Perhaps, if she ever got to speak to him, she could convince the viscount to let her return there shortly, as soon as the mice were gone.

Maisie was on a bench, rocking Sue's carriage and flirting with the young footman who was supposed to be holding Glad on a lead. The footman had eyes for no one but Maisie, and the dog, as usual, had his eyes on Pippa and the bread she had brought for the ducks.

Carissa was simply enjoying the sun, the relative privacy of the park in the morning, and her daughter's laughter, when she heard footsteps behind her. Hoping it was the viscount, for he often rode in the mornings, she turned around, a smile on her lips. The smile faded as she recognized her liveliest dread, her live husband.

"Landed in the clover this time, eh, darling?” He was boldly staring at her, assessing the value of her new sprigged muslin, the pearls at her neck, the ruched bonnet that could only have come from the hands of a master milliner. “Well, I forgive you for not meeting me the way you said you would, love, now that I see how you've been spending your hours and his lordship's blunt. I expect you'll have more than a pittance to give me this time, Carrie.” Phillip reached out and fingered the strand of pearls.

His gloves were soiled, the edges of his coat were more frayed than when she'd seen him last, and he'd cut himself shaving. Carissa stepped back, her hand to her throat. “These are not mine. My father lent them to me from his estate, that's all. And he makes me a clothing allowance, nothing extravagant, I assure you."

Kane rubbed at the scabbed-over shaving cut. “So the old skint finally let loose the purse strings? Well, it ought to be mine, from your dowry, so I'll be having my share, a bit late is all. Hartleigh won't mind, not with his pots of gold.” He reached for her fringed reticule.

Carissa pulled it away before he could grab the strings. “I have less money than before, since I cannot take wages from the viscount, not when I am a guest in his home. And my father pays my dressmaker bills, that's all. The pin money Macclesfield provides goes for everything else. I have no more to give you, Phillip, so you may as well stop asking. You are wasting your time."

"I don't believe you,” he snarled. “Lord Heartless never let a mistress of his go without anything. That's why they all grovel at his feet. With enough blunt, a toff can have any woman he wants."

Carissa did not think that now was the time to mention that Lord Hartleigh's attraction had nothing to do with his wallet. She did say that she had decided not to give Kane any more money in any case. “If I had inherited a fortune from Sir Gilliam, perhaps I would have then, particularly if you were going to live with us, to make a proper home.” She knew he wouldn't, which was the only reason she mentioned it, to placate him. Carissa did not think she could bear for him to touch her. Or to be near Pippa. For once she did not call her daughter back from the duck pond, no matter how near the edge she was. Better she get her feet wet than come face-to-face with this knave.

"I looked for that will, you know. Thought I could shake it out of that solicitor fellow, but he'd up and disappeared. Something rotten about that, I'd swear."

Carissa had thought so too, when Lesley related Bow Street's findings. “The constables have a description of the man who ransacked Gordon's office, you know. They wish to discuss the solicitor's absence with him."

"I didn't have anything to do with him taking a flit,” Kane insisted. “He was involved with any number of unsavory deals, I heard. A lot of people might have wanted to see him unavailable for questioning, if you get my drift.” He smiled, showing yellowed teeth. “And I bet they'll find Gordon's body adrifting in the Thames one of these days."

"In that case, perhaps you ought to go to Bow Street and tell them what you heard.” Carissa wanted to see Phillip's reaction. An innocent man would volunteer the information to the authorities to clear himself from suspicion, unless he had worse to hide.

She was right: Phillip Kane was not getting within calling distance of a magistrate's office. He flicked his riding crop at a row of flowers, cutting the tops off. “And perhaps you're getting above yourself, Carrie. If I can't get that house in Kensington, I need a thousand pounds or so to find a new place, to set myself up in business."

"A thousand pounds?” Carissa had never seen that much money in her lifetime. “Where would I ever find that kind of fortune?"

"Lying around Hammond House, that's where. The pile is supposed to be filled with masterpieces and artifacts."

"Are you suggesting I steal something from Lord Hartleigh?"

"You don't have to steal. Smile pretty and ask your lover for it, or your father. Either one'd be happy to see the last of me."

But they never would see the last of him, once they'd given him a shilling. “No,” she said. “I will not do that."

"Then I'll have to take the girl, I suppose. I hear certain men are willing to pay good money for an English chit"

Carissa was horrified. “What, you'd sell your own daughter into some kind of perverted bondage?"

"You can't deny she's mine to do with what I will, Carrie. And a fellow's got to live."

Why? Carissa was sure the rats at Lord Hartleigh's house felt they had a right to survive, too. “I will never let you take my daughter, Phillip. I'll have the magistrates after you faster than you can whistle."

"If they find me, and the lassie. They haven't in all these years. Keep moving, is the trick. Of course, I could have stayed put in the new gaming hell in Kensington, with a new name and all. I would have made my fortune. Damn you, Carrie, for letting that house slip through my hands!"

Carissa was beginning to think that perhaps Phillip Kane was not merely greedy and unscrupulous, but also unbalanced. She looked around nervously, but Sue was crying, and Maisie and the footman were walking the carriage up and down the path, farther away, trying to get the infant back to sleep. The privacy of a near-empty park was no longer so appealing to Mrs. Kane.

Then, right when she least wanted it, the dunderheaded dog lurched over to her to investigate the stranger, not out of any sense of protecting Carissa, of course, but to see if Phillip had any handouts. Wet from stealing the ducks’ bread from the pond, Glad shook himself, spattering both Carissa and Phillip with feathers and fouled water.

"Damnation!” Phillip kicked out at Glad. He missed, but Gladiator was not one to suffer an insult. The hound growled and showed his teeth, then decided to help himself to a piece of Kane's boot, in lieu of a biscuit. Phillip was cursing and flailing at the dog with his riding whip, which incensed Glad further, so he moved his grip farther up Phillip's leg, getting a good jawful of trousers and flesh. Kane beat at the dog while Carissa tried to grab his arm, or Glad's collar, to drag the animal away to safety.

Then Pippa was there, with a handful of gingerbread she'd been saving. Glad released Kane's leg but stayed between the child and the man, snarling around a mouthful of cake.

Carissa's heart sank at having Pippa meet the man who'd fathered her. Or letting Kane near the child he thought of as chattel. Before she could think of how to separate them, though, Pippa looked up at Phillip and said, “You look like the picture of my papa. But he was a hero."

"Pippa, dear, take Glad over to Maisie,” Carissa ordered before Phillip could say anything. “Tell her we are ready to leave."

Obedient as ever, Pippa held the dog's collar and led him away. Carissa turned to follow them.

"Not so fast, Carrie. How am I going to get my blunt?"

"Oh, go ask Broderick Parkhurst for it. Or Mason the butler. He'll know where Sir Gilliam's will is. Leave us alone."

"Why, so you can marry your swell? That's what all the finery is about, the gadding around Town, taking tea with duchesses. It's so no one can say he's marrying his whore. That's right, isn't it?"

"Go away, Phillip."

"Why should he have everything and I have nothing? No, I think I just might have to insist on my conjugal rights, unless I'm getting paid. Hartleigh won't want to share. He'll pay."

"You'd never go to him!"

"Oh, no? Then you'd better get the blunt.” He had her by the arm, in a grip that would leave bruises. Carissa tried to get away, frightened in truth now, for Phillip Kane was not in his right senses. She did not want to scream lest she upset Pippa or bring her back to Kane's proximity. Nor did she want the young footman getting into a brawl in the park. So she struggled silently, digging her fingernails into the hand that gripped her arm.

Suddenly a rider tore up the path, leaped from his horse, and grabbed Kane by the back of his collar.

"Prepare to meet your maker, maggot,” Lesley thundered, pulling back his right fist.

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One punch and the man was down. Instead of getting up to return the blow, Phillip put his hands to his bloody nose and cried, “No more!"

"What, you only fight women and dogs?” Lesley's heart was still pounding from seeing this dastard laying his hands on Carissa. He was ready to take on the entire French army, much less one sniveling skirter. “Get up and fight like a man, you lily-livered coward, you ., .” His eyes narrowed. “You're alive?"

Phillip mumbled that of course he was alive, but his nose was broken, no thanks to madmen attacking innocent strangers in the park.

"Cantwell? It is you, isn't it?"

Phillip's face drained of color, except for the claret pouring from his nose. He held a handkerchief over it and said, “I don't know what you're talking about."

Lesley hauled the man to his feet. “No? Well, I am sure the army will be more than happy to straighten things out, Lieutenant Cantwell."

"You are dicked in the nob, man. Tell him, Carrie. Tell your protector friend who I am."

Carissa's wits had gone begging. She looked from Lesley, who'd come hurtling out of nowhere, to her husband, who'd come back from the dead. She did not know what they were talking about, but Lud, this was not how she wanted to tell the viscount about Phillip.

'Tell him, Carrie,” Phillip begged when he saw Hartleigh's fist clench again.

Looking as if he wanted to commit mayhem on her next, Lesley drawled, “Yes,
Carrie,
why don't you tell me who this useless scrap of offal is, so I can tell the army what to write on his grave after they hang him?"

"He is my husband, Phillip Kane. I don't know any Cantwells."

"And just when were you going to mention his existence, Widow Kane?"

Carissa waved to Pippa to stay near Maisie. “You have every right to be angry, but I was going to tell you, I swear. I just hadn't gotten around to it. You were gone so much, and we were never in private."

"We were deuced private when I asked you to marry me,” he almost spit out while Kane was busy mopping at his nose. “You could have told me then, instead of letting me think it was myself you were rejecting!"

She'd file his hurt feelings away to examine later. “He said he was rejoining his regiment, but he never did. He abandoned me when I was increasing, and I was destitute. I had to give some excuse to people, so I said my husband was lost in the war. Phillip stayed gone, so I assumed he'd never come back. In a few years I could have had him declared dead, and no one would have known any different. Then he showed up in Kensington, that day you saw him. I swear I thought Phillip was dead until then. And I was too ashamed and too afraid to tell anybody."

"You weren't the only one he abandoned. The army has been looking to court-martial the dastard since before you met him, if they don't just shoot him out of hand."

"He's a deserter? I thought he'd invented his whole army career when the regimental office had no record of him."

"That's because he was using a different name. Phillip Cantwell left his comrades to die in battle."

Phillip had stopped the bleeding by now. “We were cannon fodder, nothing else, meant to hold the line until the blasted cavalry showed up. Should I have died along with the rest?"

"It would have saved the army the cost of a trial."

"If you hand me over to the authorities, you can be sure I'll tell them all about your little paramour, my loving wife. You won't like your dirty linen aired that way, Hartleigh."

"It will be worth it to see you hang, Cantwell. Then she'll be a widow in truth."

Phillip laughed. “Only till they put a noose around her neck for aiding and abetting a known criminal. I'll swear on my deathbed that Carrie knew I was wanted and knew I was alive the whole time."

"I never did!” Carissa cried. “I swear!"

"Why, you saw her give me the money yourself, Hartleigh. Helping me stay one jump ahead of the magistrates."

"I gave you the money to go away, nothing else."

He turned to her, curling his lip. “Who's going to be believed, darling? You saw a chance to snabble a title if you were a widow, so you paid me to disappear. I saved you from committing bigamy, is all."